


Looking for Yesterday

by neko_fish



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Post-WW2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko_fish/pseuds/neko_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never meant to survive the war. For three years, Jim Kirk drifted from place to place, plagued by nightmares and unwanted memories. But after a fateful accident, suddenly, he finds himself face to face with the ghost of the one he lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A billion thanks to siluria for beta'ing! And of course, thank you to everyone at the Word Wars for giving me feedback and support. <3

_It’s raining._

_Ankle-deep in mud, he does his best to manoeuvre through the battlefield as bullets whiz over his head. He’s not sure where or what he’s running towards anymore but it’s where everyone else is going, so he follows. The rain’s blurring his vision and he desperately wants to wipe his eyes dry, but he’s too afraid to let go of his gun to do it._

_It’s overwhelming and he wants to scream and make everything stop._

_Explosions go off all around him._

_Although he can’t see them very clearly through the rain and mud, he can feel the vibrations beneath him. The man who has been running next to him suddenly disappears from his peripheral vision._

_His heart skips a beat._

_He doesn’t want to turn around to see what happened, knowing all too well what sights will greet him. So instead, he concentrates on the familiar figure ahead of him._

_Suddenly, a blast goes off in front of him. The debris hits him hard, knocking him off balance and blinding him for a moment. Left with no choice, he lets go of his weapon and wipes the dirt off his face and out of his eyes. Taking a moment to survey what damage had been done, fear and dread builds up in his stomach when he spots the medic lying motionless on the ground._

_Time seems to stop for him as he scurries over to the medic and pulls him close._

_Despite all his begging and pleading, the man doesn’t move._

_All around him, mortar shells explode and bullets whistle through the air but all he can hear is the silence and stillness radiating from the figure in his arms-_

\--

Blue eyes snapped open.

Sitting up in bed, Jim Kirk instinctively clutched at the tags that dangled off his neck as he tried to catch his breath. It was that same nightmare again. It was the same damn one he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried. Shakily, he ran his fingers gingerly over the tag with the scratch on the side, the notched words forever engraved in his mind.

 _LEONARD H. MCCOY_  
39563856   T42  43  O  
JOANNA MCCOY  
820 RALPH MCGILL BLVD  
ATLANTA, GA.     

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, all he could hear was his blood rushing through his ears as he rubbed the dog tag between his fingers. Taking well-practiced deep breaths, he continued to rub the tag and focused his vision on a spot in front of him to calm himself down. When his heart rate finally returned to normal, taking one last deep breath, he pushed himself out of bed to get dressed. Even though the nightmare didn’t occur as frequently as it used to, after three long years of experience, Jim knew that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep that night.

Haphazardly pulling on a pair of worn out Levis, a shirt and a jacket, he stretched out his tense limbs and decided that a little fresh air would do him good.

Careful not to wake his hosts up in the room opposite, with his shoes in his hand he opened the door to his bedroom and snuck down the hallway. He was glad that the two-storey suburban house was so tidy; otherwise, it would’ve required a lot more effort on his part to sneak out. With his eyes sharp and focussed, he manoeuvred his way around the kitchen and out the backdoor.

Slipping on his shoes, he trotted around in the dark over to the side of the house where his 1940 Indian Four was parked. He stole a glance back to make sure no one heard him. If they knew, they’d try to stop him—like they always did.

(“Jim, we’re worried about you. You’ve been so different ever since you came back. It’s been years, don’t you think it’s time to let go and move on?”)

People always claimed to understand what he went through—what he was  _still_  going through. And they did, but at the same time, they didn’t, not really. Quickly strapping on his helmet, as uncomfortable as it was, he pushed his bike away from the house and out onto the road before starting it up.

Driving down the road past all the identical houses and feeling the wind against him, he felt a little better. But he knew the feeling wouldn’t last for long. The guilt always came back—the guilt of surviving the war when he never had any intention to.

After the war, he had drifted all over the continent. He went wherever his motorcycle took him, hopping from one city to the next, never allowing himself to get too comfortable, never allowing himself to feel content. Not that it was ever really an issue. The image of that still, still figure in his mind always followed him wherever he went.

It bothered Jim that his mind drifted towards the motionless figure in his arms more often than the man who constantly berated him for doing stupid things _—“Dammit, Jim! Does your face naturally gravitate towards people’s fists or something?”_ —but always made enough coffee for two the next morning. He spent so much more time with the grumpy and vocal Leonard McCoy that it didn’t make sense why all he seemed to be able to recall was the one time the man was so uncharacteristically silent and cold.

So caught up in his thoughts, he never noticed the truck's headlights until it was too late.


	2. Chapter 1

When Jim came to, he let out a groan and tried to open his eyes. Light flooded his vision and his brain immediately protested— _loudly_. Head throbbing and momentarily blinded, he could make out a soft murmur above his head and hands on his wrist and seemingly all over him.

Slowly, he tried to open his eyes again. This time, he could make out blurry blobs of colour amidst the dizziness. Hovering over him was a mass of brown, beige and white. For reasons he couldn’t explain, they reminded him of the dear life he had lost all those years ago. He reached out to touch the hand on his wrist, but whether or not his hand actually moved like he wanted it to, he couldn’t tell.

_‘Bones? Am I dreaming? Don’t wake me up…I don’t want to be alone again.’_

The blur of colours moved and there were more reassuring murmurs that teased his ears. Try as he might, Jim couldn’t keep his eyes open. Seconds later, he drifted back into darkness.

\--

The second time he regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that his vision was a lot clearer and that there was  _a lot_  more pain. Stifling a groan when he tried to turn his head, Jim blinked the tears back and looked around. He was in a stark, white room which only ever meant one thing to him.

“ _Hospital_?” he rasped, throat feeling like sandpaper.

Much to his surprise, a voice replied, “Very good, Mr. Kirk. It’s nice to see you awake.”

Blue eyes immediately flickered over to the woman next to him in surprise, body tense and ready to react.

Dressed in a simple white nylon uniform, she appeared unfazed by his agitation and greeted him with a warm smile. “No need to look so shocked now. My name’s Christine Chapel, I’m the nurse in charge around here. Come on, let’s sit you up. Let me know if you feel nauseous or anything. Wouldn’t want you throwing up all over everything now, would we?”

Stupefied, Jim furrowed his brows and let out, “Huh? How do you know my name? Why am I here?” As he was propped up into sitting position with care, he felt his brain protesting again. He groaned and closed his eyes. “God, it feels like I was run over by a tank.”

Chapel offered him a sympathetic look. “I think that’s pretty normal for someone who just got hit by a truck. You’re lucky it wasn’t a head-on collision and that you were wearing your helmet. Do you want to hear about the damage you sustained—or rather, I suppose a better word for it would be ‘survived’?”

Opening his eyes again and glancing down towards his blanket-covered body, he frowned uncertainly. “I don’t know, do I? I still have all my parts, don’t I? Please tell me I still have all my parts.”

“Don’t worry. You still have all your parts, Mr. Kirk,” she reassured him. “We suspect you were either thrown off or jumped off your bike right before the crash. You didn’t even break any bones—which was a miracle, by the way. You’ve been out for over a day now. Today’s the 21st. You have a concussion, a couple of nasty bruises, but most of your other wounds were superficial. There were some deep lacerations on your legs and upper arms that we had to stitch up, so you shouldn’t move them for awhile, but that was the worst of it. Is there anything you don’t understand?”

Taking a moment to confirm the information he’d just been told, he flexed his arms and legs and regretted it immediately. Grimacing, he croaked, “Yeah, I still don’t understand how you know my name. Did you take a look at-” Doing his best to ignore the pain that shot up through his arms as he moved them, he reached up to fiddle with his tags.

His eyes widened when he realized that they weren’t there.

“My tags.” He began looking around in panic. “Where are they?”

“Calm down, Mr. Kirk. All your personal effects are right here, safe and sound.” Chapel reached over to the nightstand and handed him the chain back.

“Oh thank god.” Once the dog tags were securely back in his hands, he breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed the scratched one for comfort, internally reciting the engraved words to himself like a mantra.  After calming himself down, he decided to do something for his parched throat. “Can I have some water, please?”

Helping him take a sip of water, she asked, “So you took part in the war too, hmm? Which front?”

Jim swallowed, his throat grateful to be rehydrated. “Europe.”

Chapel looked at him in understanding. It wasn’t the first time he’d received expressions like that. “A number of us went to volunteer overseas as well. I guess it ended a little earlier for you since I was over in the Pacific.” She shook her head and sighed. “When I finally got back, I found out that we suddenly were short on staff. Some of them decided to stay overseas, others just…we just never heard from them again. Good lord, I hope there won’t be another war sprouting out of this whole mess with the Russians.”

The topic wasn’t one he enjoyed talking about regardless of time or situation. Although it had been three years since the war ended, it still felt too raw to openly discuss.

“Yeah, let’s hope not,” Jim replied dryly. There wasn’t anything else he wanted to say about the war, so he changed the subject. “You still haven’t told me how you knew my name. I mean, I’m not from these parts so you couldn’t have just ‘seen me around’ or anything like that.”

She appeared unsurprised by his words. “Well, at least that explains why your friends had to write your name and their contact information on your arm. We had to wash it off when we fixed you up though. If I recall properly, it said, ‘Hello, my name is Jim Kirk. If found, please contact…’ and then there was a phone number listed.”

Blue eyes blinked a couple times, nonplussed. “What? On my arm? Oh, right, it’s because I went out to grab a drink at a bar last night and Nyota was convinced I’d get myself lost and killed.” Then his eyes widened. “Wait, did you contact them?”

Chapel raised a brow at his panicked voice. “We did. They’re sitting outside right now. You know, they’ve been sitting there since we called, waiting for you to wake up. I should probably go let them know that you’re up and, from what I can see, very coherent.”

“Wait, before you go, answer me this: there’s got to be a rule against guests verbally and physically attacking patients here, right?” he asked. “I mean, I have a concussion, so could you tell them to take it easy on me? Please?”

Laughing, Chapel made her way to the door. “I’ll see what I can do. If they try to do any bodily harm to you, just holler. I’m sure someone will come to your rescue, soldier boy.”

Numbly, Jim sat there and waited for the inevitable. Uhura and Spock were going to step through those doors and he was going to get a very sound verbal thrashing for riding off in the middle of the night like an idiot. And he deserved it, if only because Uhura had specifically told him  _not_  to do what he did on more than one occasion.

Suddenly, a strikingly familiar figure in a doctor’s coat walked past his door.

Jaw dropping in disbelief, Jim tried to sit up further only to have his body protest against the sudden movement. A voice inside his head told him to call out to the man, to get his attention somehow, but he found his words stuck in his throat.

Uhura and Spock stepped into the room only to find him still stuck in that position. Baffled, Uhura turned to see if there was anything behind them before asking, “Jim? What’s wrong with your face? It’s not stuck like that, is it? Did something just happen?”

Snapping out of his reverie, Jim stared at his friends with wide eyes. “Bones! Guys, I just saw Bones!”

Spock draped his suit jacket over the chair by the door and folded his hands behind his back. “Jim, it would appear that you’re still feeling unwell. Perhaps I should go get a doctor for you.”

It took all the self-restraint he had not to shake his head in frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was to make himself nauseous. “No! I’m not hallucinating! He just walked by like, a minute ago! It was him, I swear!”

“I don’t question that a person walked by a little while ago, but perhaps your vision is still impaired. You did sustain a concussion after all, Jim,” Spock reasoned.

Uhura was a little nicer and poked her head out the door to take a look around. “There’s no one around.” Then walking over to his bed and eyeing the tags in his protective grip, she gently placed a gloved hand on his arm. “It might’ve been someone who looked like Leonard. But you know better than anyone that it couldn’t have been him, Jim.”

He hated it when she tried to be kind to him. Although well intended, it only served to remind him how far downhill everything in his life had gone.

“I…” Jim began to protest, but then realized that what she had just said was true. The tags in his hand suddenly felt heavier. Taking a moment to quell his disappointment, he conceded with a sigh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He didn’t want to burden his friends with any more of his baggage.

“Jim, it’s been three years.”

“I know,” he protested. “You don’t have to remind me, Spock. It’s been three years, two months and eighteen days if you take the time difference into account.”

Spock raised a brow. “It would appear that you’re still having a hard time coping.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied the other man for a moment. Spock had never been one to throw careless words around, so that meant he was trying to hint at something. Then slowly, it dawned on him. With a rush of anger surging through him, Jim snapped, “I’m not suicidal. I can handle this. I might be stupid and reckless, but I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

 This time.

“I was hardly insinuating that you were. I was merely suggesting that you find better and less dangerous ways of dealing with the emotional burden you carry,” Spock replied, unfazed by his bout of rage.

“I’m not suicidal,” he repeated tightly. “And I don’t need help. I’m not going to kill myself, Spock. I’ve still got Joanna to think about. She’s only nine and I’m not going to make her go through all that again.” That was the same reason he used to stop himself from considering doing anything stupid.

When the conversation turned silent, Jim took the opportunity to change the subject. “Did they tell you when I’ll be released? I hate being cooped up in hospitals.”

Seething, Uhura narrowed her eyes. “Well whose fault is it that you’re stuck here with a concussion in the first place? Do you have any idea how worried we were? I  _specifically_  told you to stay off your bike after dark. Why didn’t you listen—why don’t you  _ever_  listen?”

Jim made himself as small as he possibly could and shot her his best ‘ _I know and I’m sorry. But look at me, I’m the equivalent of a helpless puppy’_ look. “I had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep,” he admitted weakly.

She heaved a sigh—as well dressed as she was with her tailored suit and long pencil skirt, the bag under her eyes gave away her exhaustion. “Why didn’t you wake one of us up? I  _also_  specifically told you that if you needed anything, you could come to us.”

“I didn’t  _need_  anything,” Jim replied with a huff. “I just wanted a bit of fresh air’s all.”

“Then maybe you should’ve just walked instead,” Uhura snapped back.

Spock gave the slightest nod to show his agreement. “Perhaps it is for the best that Jim’s motorcycle has been rendered inoperative.”

Blue eyes widened. “My baby got wrecked? But it’s an Indian  _Four_! They don’t even make that model anymore!”

“I’m afraid it is beyond repairs. However,” he shot Jim a pointed look, “it is fortunate that your motorcycle took the bulk of the damage instead of you, Jim.”

“It’s a miracle you survived,” Uhura emphasized.

Miracle.

It was another one of those words he hated along with condolences, ‘I understand’s’, ‘thank you’s’, and ‘you served your country well’s’. The list went on and on but those were the ones he heard most constantly.

“What can I say? I’ve got the luck of the devil.”

Uhura rolled her eyes. “You’re so infuriating, Jim Kirk. I don’t know why we even put up with you. If you didn’t already have a concussion, I’d give you one for being such an idiot.”

“Hey, at least I saved you a little work,” Jim offered ruefully.

She glared at him, nothing but fury in her expression. “You’re lucky I promised the nurse I wouldn’t do anything to worsen the damage.”

He gave a solemn nod. “Nurse Chapel’s my hero and saviour. Remind me to thank her the next time she comes by.”

“Thank who for what now?”

The three of them turned to see Chapel standing there with a tray of food in her hands. Jim gave her a nod of agreement. “Ah, you have excellent timing. I was just telling Nyota here that I needed to thank you for making her promise not to do me any bodily harm—as tempting as it may be.”

Chapel tilted her head back and laughed. “That’s only while you’re here, Mr. Kirk. She’s allowed to do as much bodily harm to you as she wants once you’re released. But for now, it’s time for you to eat. Your friends can stick around if they’d like.”

Uhura shook her head. “It’s alright, thank you. I think we better get going. We haven’t had a proper meal in a while and watching Jim eat will only make us hungrier. Come on, Spock. We’ll be back tomorrow, Jim. You better behave yourself. I think I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’re strapped down to a hospital bed.”

Following his girlfriend to the door, Spock glanced back and dipped his head. “Try to get some rest, Jim. It will improve the chances of you being released from the hospital within the week by 83.4 percent.”

Voice laced with sarcasm, Jim replied, “ _Thanks_ , Spock. I’ll keep that in mind.” Then as they left the room, he called out after them, “See you guys later.” Once they were gone, he turned his attention back on Chapel. Upon seeing her lingering eyes, he offered her a rueful look. “Sorry to break it to you, but he’s as taken as a man can be.”

She snorted and set the tray on the nightstand next to him. “That’s what I figured, but a girl can admire and appreciate from afar, can’t she?”

“Fair enough. Can’t deny you that much.”

Chapel sighed and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anyways, I’m engaged—or was.”

Blue eyes blinked. “Was? What happened?”

“The war happened. We were sent to different stations and he never came back,” she explained vaguely.

“Well, it’s already been three years since the war ended. Why don’t you-” Jim caught himself and stopped before he could utter the very words he despised.

She shrugged. “I suppose it’s because I don’t really want to. Until I know for sure that he’s gone for good one way or another—or until I find someone better, I’m happy to just wait and see. It’s not like I’m particularly convinced that he’ll suddenly show up out of the blues or anything, but why should I let go and move on before I’m ready to? We were engaged for a reason. I loved him—still do.”

Jim nodded, unable to think of anything helpful to say. He felt a newfound sense of respect for Chapel, understanding her feelings perfectly. Then he raised an eyebrow and stared at her incredulously when she picked the bowl up. “Wow, I’m even getting spoon fed? This is by far the best service I’ve ever gotten at a hospital, Nurse Chapel.”

“The doctor thought it’d be better than you ripping out the stitches in your arms.” Then in a mock-deep voice, she added, “‘Don’t have too much fun feeding the kid, Chapel. And don’t let him get used to it. A spoilt patient’s the last thing we need around here, dammit.’”

Jim couldn’t help but be amused at her impression of the doctor. “He sounds like a real stick in the mud. What’s wrong with having a little fun on the job?”

“Try telling that to him the next time he checks up on you. He’s probably only a couple years older than you but he acts like he’s ready to retire.” There was affection in Chapel’s voice as she spoke about her boss. Holding the spoon out, she instructed, “Here, open wide.”

“What? No ‘here comes to choo choo train’ or fighter planes or anything?” he teased.

Chapel paused mid-motion and shot him an impressively unimpressed expression. “Really? Just how old do you think you are? Am I going to have to call the doctor in here and have him feed you instead, Mr. Kirk?”

“No, ma’am. Please don’t send the grumpy doctor in. I’ll be good and behave.” Pouting, he opened his mouth and ate the food without further complaint. “And you can just call me Jim, by the way.”

“Excellent choice, Jim. Now eat up or we’ll both get in trouble. I have other patients to get to, you know?”

Jim shot her a well-practiced, flirtatious smile. “But I’m obviously your favourite, right? You’re  _my_  favourite nurse, Nurse Chapel.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t know, sweetheart, I’ve got an awful lot of patients here. If you hurry up and eat and let me get on with my job, then  _maybe_  you’ll be my favourite.”

Eating another spoonful of soup, he thought about her offer as he swallowed. “I don’t have much of an appetite so I might not be able to do that. But I  _can_  maybe promise you that my ever so spiffy professor friend will be back tomorrow to visit me.”

Considering his proposition for a moment, she conceded with no small amount of exasperation in her voice, “Fine, you can be my favourite.”

Jim let out a huff, wishing he could shake his head without giving himself a headache. “I’ll never understand what is it with you ladies and your infatuation with Spock. Just because he’s dressed up like Frank Sinatra doesn’t mean very much since Nyota picks his clothes for him.”

“Well, she has excellent taste in clothes, I must say. Open up.”

He frowned and gulped down another spoonful of soup. “That’s not fair. I mean, I’m practically the cat’s meow!”

“I’m sure you are, Jim.” Chapel shot him a mock-sympathetic smile. “You know, it’s probably your boyish good looks. It makes you look like a drugstore cowboy or a lounge lizard—whichever you think describes you better.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m neither of those. I have better things to do with my time,” he retorted in indignation. “And I can’t help it if I’m good looking! But I promise I’m not as bad as I look! I’m just thoroughly misunderstood! You should feel sorry for me, Nurse Chapel.”

She rolled her eyes and drawled sarcastically, “Oh yes, I bet it’s real hard being so darn handsome, right? But I’m afraid that’s your problem to deal with, Jim. Are you all done with your meal? I’ve got to finish my rounds before I get yelled at by our resident ogre of a doctor.”

He waved his fingers in dismissal. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Putting the bowl back on the tray, she asked, “Is there anything you need before I leave you to rest? The doctor should be in shortly to check up on you. He’ll lay you back down when he comes by.”

Taking a moment to assess his situation, Jim nodded. “Actually, could you help me put my tags back on? I’d hate to drop them or anything.”

“Sure thing, Jim. If all your requests are going to be this simple, we’re going to get along just fine.” She slipped the chain around his neck before taking the tray away and closing the door behind her.

In the silence and with his tags back where they belonged, Jim let his eyes droop and the weariness take over.

That night, he dreamt of hazel eyes and better days.

\--

Over the days, to avoid irking Uhura and Spock any further, Jim tried his best to put the lookalike out of his mind. And aside from the occasional ‘corner of the eye’ experiences, he succeeded by convincing himself that it was just a cruel trick his brain was playing on him. After all, there was no way it could’ve been who he thought it was.

Much to his relief, he spent his nights there in blissful, nightmare-free sleep. During the day, to distract himself from unwanted thoughts and memories, he spent most of his time getting in trouble and disturbing other patients by sneaking out of his room and seeing how far he could get down the hall before someone noticed his absence.

Under normal circumstances, he would’ve just climbed down the tree outside his window in his hospital gown, exposing his back to any passerby who had the misfortune of looking up. But given his limited flexibility, climbing was out of question. His record thus far was the stairwell; on his third day, he made it all the way to the stairwell and got stuck there when he realized that he was unable to get down the stairs without ripping his stitches. Chapel found him there while he was contemplating ways to slide down the railing, and more or less  _threw_  him back into his room. On the way back, he couldn’t help but notice that there was a little tally next to his name on the door, keeping track of all his failed escapes.

Aside from the endless trouble he caused everyone, he got along famously with the nurses, flirting with them whenever they dropped by, and teasing them for openly gawking at Spock (who was oblivious to it all) when he dropped by to visit.

Jim never met the grouch of a doctor.

According to Chapel, due to the shortage of staff, the man was usually preoccupied with more serious cases and surgeries, so he left most his patients’ aftercare to the nurses. At the end of his shift, if he had the time, he would do a quick round and check up on all those under his care, but that was about it—and Jim, exhausted by his own shenanigans, was always asleep by that time.

It wasn’t until the day of his release that everything changed.

He awoke to the soft sound of someone shuffling around his bed. Assuming it to be Chapel, Jim stretched as much as his injured limbs would allow him to and gave a content sigh. With his eyes still closed, he reached out with open palms and let out a needy whine, “Nurse Chapel, I’m thirsty. Water, please.”

Something was placed in his hand with a gruff “Close, but not quite Chapel. Try again. And you can drink your own water, you damn infant. You’re not  _that_ injured. Chapel’s spoilt you way to much even though I clearly told her not to.”

Startled, blue eyes snapped open to see a cup in his hand. He jutted his lower lip out in a pout and sat up with a lot more ease than he had days before. “Ah, you must be the doctor who hates fun.”

Standing beside him, the doctor hummed and scribbled something onto a clipboard. “That’s right, Mr. Kirk. Fun’s not allowed in this hospital.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man snorted. “You better drink your water before I take it away. I’m on a tight schedule. I have to check you over and make sure you’re fit for society before releasing you back into the wild to be with your own kind.”

“Ah, so the ogre has a sense of humour.” Jim’s lips curled into his usual smile as he took a careful sip from his cup.

Then he spared the man a glance.

And immediately, both his smile and his cup fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drugstore cowboys and lounge lizards were guys that hung around street corners and lounges and tried to pick women up.


	3. Chapter 2

The cup fell from his hand and clattered noisily on the floor as Jim sat there and gawked.  
  
There was a long pause between them.  
  
In the silence, he could hear Frankie Laine playing from down the hall.  
  
The doctor looked down at the cup then back up at him with a raised brow. Waving his hand in front of Jim’s face, he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong with you, kid? You look like you just saw a ghost or something.” When he didn’t get a response, his worried frown deepened. “Mr. Kirk? Are your arms hurting? Hey, don’t just sit there, gawking like an idiot. Talk to me.”  
  
Snapping out of his reverie and opening and closing his mouth a couple times, Jim’s mind raced to find something appropriate to say. With his words stuck in his throat, all he managed to let out was a weak “ _Bones_ ….”  
  
“What now?” The lookalike shot him a confused expression and began going over his charts. “What  _about_  your bones? You didn’t have any fractures or breaks from what I recall—you didn’t break anything while trying to slide down the railings, did you? If you did, I hate to say it, but you deserve it for being such an infant.”  
  
Promptly shutting his mouth, Jim sat there and tried to think of a different way to approach the situation. In front of him was the man who he’d had the best dreams and the worst nightmares about.  
  
But it couldn’t be him.  
  
It couldn’t.  
  
Sure, he looked and talked exactly like the Leonard McCoy he knew. But as far as Jim knew, Leonard was an only child. So he was convinced that the man had to be either a doppelganger or a clone.  
  
Swallowing thickly and clutching at his tags, he asked, “Hey doc, what’s your name?”  
  
His question earned him a suspicious expression. “It’s Leonard McCoy. Why?”  
  
Jim’s jaw went slack and the only thing he could think of to say was, “ _Applesauce_.”  
  
The man had to be lying.  
  
If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Leonard McCoy died in the war three years ago.  
  
“It is really so hard to believe? And mind your language, kid,” Leonard warned him idly. After looking Jim over and seemingly satisfied that he was coherent once more, hazel eyes returned to the clipboard. “Swing your legs over the bed and sit up, would you?”  
  
Doing as he was told with a little effort, Jim took the opportunity to study the lookalike a little closer. Eyes trailing towards Leonard’s left index finger, his breath caught in his throat when he found exactly what he was looking for: a sharp, white scar running between the first and second joint.  
  
 _“Dammit, Jim! Don’t sneak up on me like that! I nearly cut my goddamn finger off!”_  
  
 _“My bad… Hey, Bones? I’m no doctor, but that’s an awful lot of blood your finger’s spurting out there. Is that normal?”_  
  
It was getting harder to pass everything— _this man_ —off as a simple coincidence. Still, determined to get to the bottom of all this confusion, he continued, “Hey, doc, where were you born?”  
  
“Good lord, did you do this to all my staff? I don’t have time to be interrogated.” Leonard frowned and began checking over Jim’s bandaged limbs. But after a moment, he sighed and answered, “Georgia. Happy? Now, it looks like your stitches haven’t been ripped—I’m not sure how, but they look fine. And your bruises have mostly faded which is a good sign.”  
  
Ignoring Leonard’s muttering, he continued bombarding the other with questions. “What city in Georgia? And what year?”  
  
Finally pausing in his actions, Leonard stared at him in bewilderment. “I don’t know and I don’t know. What’s with all the questions, kid?”  
  
Jim sat up a little straighter at the answer. Maybe it was the shock of seeing Leonard alive and breathing or maybe it was how he was being treated like a stranger that made Jim frantic for answers. Sounding more desperate than he intended to, he asked, “What do you mean you don’t know? Are you just saying it to get me to stop asking you questions?—because Hikaru used to do that to me, but I can tell you that it’s not effective in the least.”  
  
Leonard raised a hand to cut him off. “Settle down before you hurt yourself, Mr. Kirk. That last thing I want is for you to be here for another week. You’re a terrible influence on the nurses. I actually don’t know.”  
  
“How can you not know these things? It’s basic information,” he squawked.  
  
“Why does any of this matter to you?” was the defensive reply.  
  
“It just does! It matters a lot to me!”  
  
Eyebrows furrowing, Leonard frowned. “Why? Did we know each other or something?”  
  
“Did we know each other or-” Jim stopped and blinked, brain going into overdrive from trying to process the other’s words. He grabbed the man’s sleeve in bewilderment. “What do you mean did ‘we know each other or something?’ You don’t remember? How can you not remember, Bones?”  
  
“You keep calling me that, but I have no idea why. I’m going to assume this means I knew you from before.” Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Leonard offered him a rueful expression. “Look, I’m sorry, kid, but I really don’t remember, okay? I don’t remember much of anything.”  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes skeptically and studied the man for a moment before concluding, “You’re being serious. You’re  _actually_  being serious.” He paused and let his hands go limp in his lap. “Do you remember what happened?”  
  
Guarded hazel eyes regarded him for a moment before answering, “Look, I don’t have time to explain everything to you. And quite frankly, I don’t know you well enough to tell you the few details I know. Long story short, I woke up in a little village in France and realized that had no memory of anything.” Almost nonchalantly, he added, “I’ve treated patients with memory loss since I arrived here, and after looking at all of them, I’m still the worst case I know of.”  
  
“How’d you figure out your name then?” Jim asked.  
  
“I had a slip of paper with a couple pieces of information about myself on it—or I assumed it was about me. You know, name, state of birth, occupation and whatnot.”  
  
“Occupation? But you didn’t have your MD then….” He promptly shut his mouth.  
  
Leonard shot him an interested look. “No. Apparently I didn’t—or at least it wasn’t in the records. But luckily I came across this hospital. They were so severely short on staff that all they did was test my skills. And I guess I was good enough because they took me in. It's unprofessional, but hey, who am I to complain? They even pulled a couple of strings with the med school nearby. I got to write my exams and received my MD from them instead.”  
  
Jim nodded, mind still struggling to comprehend the situation. Reaching up, he rubbed his tags for comfort. “I see. I’m glad everything worked out.”  
  
Crossing his arms, Leonard turned to him. “Well then, Mr. Kirk, judging by your reaction, it seems pretty clear to me that we  _did_  know each other at one point in the past. Now, would you be so kind as to tell me how the hell do you know me or am I going to have to withhold your release for a couple more days? I know just how much you enjoy sneaking down the hallway and causing trouble for the nurses.”  
  
It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Jim took a moment to ponder just how much information he should disclose. Not too much, he decided. Finally, with his mind calm enough to push his initial disbelief and shock aside, he slipped behind his carefully constructed façade once more and tried to lighten the mood with a small, teasing smile. “And spoil all the fun of remembering things on your own for you? I’d never.”  
  
Leonard scowled. “Come on, Kirk. Don’t be an asshole and just tell me something— _anything_ —that’ll jog my memory.”  
  
“Quite frankly, I’m disappointed that my name and my physical presence didn’t jog your memory.” Then he added with a pout, “We were friends, you know?  _Best_  friends.”  
  
Hazel eyes widened. “Bullshit.”  
  
“Language, doc,” he chided with a smirk. “And it’s true. It was Jim and Bones all the way.”  
  
Wrinkling his nose, Leonard repeated, “‘Jim and Bones’? I assume I was Bones. Why was I ‘Bones’?”  
  
“That’s right. It’s because you were my best friend, the soon-to-be-sawbones.” Then he asked, “Did I seriously not jog any of your memories? I happen to be aware of the fact that I’m a  _very_  memorable person. This is very disappointing. I think it’s safe to say I’m heartbroken right now. Do you have some sort of treatment for that?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Leonard drawled sarcastically, “Yeah, I’d prescribe you a bottle of ‘suck it up and deal with it.’ Take it twice a day for the rest of your life and you’ll be fine.”  
  
The familiar response made Jim’s heart twinge.  
  
Taking a moment to massage his temples, Leonard sighed. “Look, as much as I’d like to spend the rest of the day interrogating you, I’ve got to finish my rounds. You stay put and I’ll be back in a little bit to continue this conversation, okay? Chapel should be here shortly to get you ready for your release.”  
  
Jim nodded. “That sounds fine to me.”           
  
“Anything else you want to tell me before I head off?”  
  
“There are tonnes of things I want to tell you,” he told the man earnestly. “But you should probably go help your other patients first. I’ll be right here—promise.”  
  
“No more attempted great escapes?”  
  
“No more attempted great escapes.”  
  
“Alright then. I’ll see you in a bit.” As Leonard made his way out of the room, he turned around and added, “Oh, and remind Chapel not to have any fun for me, would you?”  
  
He nodded with feigned seriousness. “Will do, doc.”  
  
  
While waiting for Chapel, Jim took a deep breath and mentally went over everything that just transpired.  It was all finally starting to sink in. After three long years of being plagued by nightmares and memories, it turned out that Leonard McCoy was alive. It seemed too amazing to be true.  
  
Jim had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.  
  
When the pain registered, still mindful of his injuries, he flopped back onto his bed and began laughing to himself, the sound foreign to his ears. How long had it been since he last laughed? And just like the laughter, the relief surging through his veins felt strange and unfamiliar to him. It’d been such a long time since he felt such… _happiness_.  
  
Leonard McCoy was alive.  
  
Memory loss aside, he was just as Jim remembered him: gruff, blunt, a workaholic, and in a constant state of exasperation. Fingers running over the tag, Jim immediately set on planning out strategies and methods to help Leonard regain his memories. Going over a list of significant figures and events in his head, he began prioritizing them.  
  
It was hard to concentrate on the task at hand when he felt so ridiculously giddy.  
  
His Leonard McCoy was  _alive_.  
  
Minutes later, Chapel stepped in with her usual professional gait. He sat back up and greeted her with a wide grin, which caused her to raise a brow and look around to make sure he was smiling at her. Picking the cup of the floor, she eyed him warily. “Strange, you seem abnormally happy for some reason. What happened, Jim? Doctor McCoy _was_ just in here, wasn’t he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone smiling quite so… _happily_  after coming into contact with him.”  
  
Jim shrugged, struggling to quell his excitement. “I’m not quite like all your other patients, now am I?”  
  
She smiled and nodded in agreement. “Can’t argue with you there. You’re a regular nutcase, Jim Kirk.”  
  
“Your  _favourite_  nutcase,” he corrected her. “By the way, the good doctor instructed me to remind you not to have any fun on the job.”  
  
“I’ll try my best not to.” Chapel laughed. “It sounds like the two of you hit it off. That’s rare. Most patients around here are intimidated into silence and obedience by his constant scowling.”  
  
“Again, I’m not like most patients. I bet he’s nothing but a big teddy bear who cares too much about others underneath that rough exterior, right?”  
  
Chapel nodded slowly, unable to hide the amazement in her eyes. “You came to this conclusion after a ten minute chat? It takes most people years to figure that out.”  
  
Jim winked at her. “What can I say? I’m a real charmer. He’s even coming back after his rounds to talk some more.”  
  
Raising a brow in surprise, she repeated, “He’s coming back to talk some more…? And you’re not joking about this?”  
  
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m not joking at all.”  
  
Assisting him up off the bed and onto his feet, she huffed. “Good lord, now I’ve really seen everything. Just what are you, Jim? Getting the doctor to talk not just once—but twice? How are you feeling? You up to getting changed on your own?”  
  
“Absolutely. I’m feeling great—fantastic, really.” Moving his arms too quickly, he corrected himself, “Make that fantastic with a side of pain. I’ve got to say though, I can’t wait to get out of this hospital gown. No peeking, okay?”  
  
She rolled her eyes and turned around with crossed arms. “I’ll try my best to resist the temptation. If you need help, you better let me know. Doctor McCoy will probably suffer a stroke if you worsen your injuries.”  
  
After a long struggle, he managed to pull on the cuffed trousers and button up the shirt Uhura and Spock brought him. Not even attempting to tie the boldly patterned necktie, he sat back down on the bed, slightly out of breath and cheeks flushed from the effort. “Nobody actually wears socks nowadays, right?”  
  
“Are you done, Jim?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m as done as can be. You can turn back around now.” Still breathing heavily, he looked down at himself and smiled. “I look a lot more presentable in normal clothes, don’t I?”  
  
She rolled her eyes again and ruffled his hair as one would a child, indulging him. “Oh, yes. What a transformation. I can barely recognize you, you spiffy thing, you. It’s like you jumped right out of this month’s issue of  _Esquire_. Do you need a drink of water or anything?”  
  
“Now, Nurse Chapel, what did I say about spoiling him and having too much fun on the job?” a voice interrupted them.  
  
Her head snapped up in surprise. “Doctor McCoy!”  
  
Jim’s lips curled into knowing grin. “You didn’t think I was serious, did you?”  
  
Chapel gaped. “I can’t believe it.”  
  
Leonard raised a brow. “Can’t believe what now? Why are you staring at me like I just sprouted another head?” He immediately shot Jim an accusing scowl. “Kirk, what’d you say to her?”  
  
Blue eyes widened as he protested, “What? Why me? I’m just an innocent patient! All I said to her was that you’d be back to continue our little talk from earlier! That’s all! And I reminded her not to have fun like you told me to! Nurse Chapel, tell him I’m innocent!”  
  
Unfortunately, Chapel was still too busy gawking at the doctor’s presence to help him.  
  
Crossing his arms, Leonard scowled. “Dammit, Kirk, we’re already understaffed as it is. I need all my nurses at their best.”  
  
“Why am I the only one getting blamed here?” Jim frowned. “I find this grossly unfair.”  
  
“Oh, cry me a river.” Sighing in exasperation, Leonard turned to his nurse. “Chapel, are you done staring? Mitchell’s bandages need to be changed and Carter’s convinced someone’s stolen her gramophone—again.”  
  
Snapping out of her trance, she quickly nodded. “I’ll get right on it. See you later, Jim.” On her way out, she turned around and smiled teasingly. “And no having fun, doctor.”  
  
Leonard snorted with a hint of a smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Waiting until Chapel left the room, he turned his attention back to Jim. “So, back to our conversation earlier.”  
  
Jim nodded and repeated in agreement, “So back to our conversation earlier.”  
  
“I really don’t have much time to spare so are you going to tell me more stuff or not?” Leonard urged him.  
  
He paused and frowned. “At the risk of sounding like a sassy brat, I’m going to say that maybe you’re rushing this a little too much.”  
  
Hazel eyes narrowed. “You  _do_  sound like a sassy brat.” Then running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Look, I know rushing things is probably a bad idea, especially given the severity of my case. But that’s just what happens when you spend three years trying to remember things and coming up with nothing. Then out of nowhere, some kid claiming to be your best friend shows up. Do you know what it’s like not remembering your own birthday?”  
  
“January 21st , 1917.”  
  
Leonard blinked. “What?”  
  
“Your birthday. You were born on January 21st, 1917.” Jim offered him a feeble shrug. “Look, I bet it’s really frustrating not remembering anything. Hell, it’s frustrating just watching you. I want you to get all your memories back ASAP as well, but like you said, you’ve got a pretty severe case on your hands, so have some patience, okay?” Earnestly, he added, “I promise I’ll help you through this—no matter how long it takes.”  
  
Heaving a sigh, Leonard conceded, “Fine. What do you propose then? And just so we’re clear, I’m only trusting your word because I don’t have much else to go on right now. It’s been years and nothing’s worked. I’m tired of not remembering.”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’m not lying to you,” Jim reassured him. He glanced up at the ceiling, trying to recall the list he had conjured up a little while ago. Remembering the priorities he had lined up, he suggested, “How about I give you a little material to work with and see if those jog any of your memories? We can rendezvous either when you get a day off or when I come back to get my stitches removed in a week.”  
  
After considering the proposal for a moment, Leonard nodded in agreement. “I guess that’d work. Chances are I won’t get a day off between now and forever, so it looks like it’ll have to wait till you come back. Of course, that’s assuming you don’t get yourself hospitalized again between now and then.”  
  
He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You technically only met me like, an hour ago and you already know me so well.” Then he added just for good measure, “I missed your sweet talk.”  
  
Leonard’s eyebrow shot up in disbelief. “Jesus, just what kind of friendship did we have?”  
  
“The best kind, obviously,” he replied with practiced ease.  
  
With a scoff, Leonard shook his head. “Can’t say I’m entirely convinced about that, Kirk.”  
  
“Just call me Jim. Please?” It sounded like a plea—and it was one.  
  
“If I call you Jim, Chapel will think I fell for your charm or something.” Leonard snorted.  
  
Jim pouted. “You mean you  _didn’t_? That’s almost as depressing as being forgotten.” Theatrically, he snapped his fingers and crossed his arms. “And here I was, hoping that I’d be able to convince you to come to a drive-in with me later this week.”  
  
“On your wrecked motorcycle? No thanks,” Leonard replied with a scoff. “I’ll call you Jim when I remember you again or when you can prove the validity of everything you just told me. So before I allow your friends to come in and collect you, do you actually have ‘material’ for me to work with?”  
  
He perked up and nodded. “Yes. I actually do.” Grabbing his wallet from the few personal effects they managed to salvage on the night of the accident, he pulled out a few old photographs and sifted through them.  
  
One of them made him pause.  
  
It was an old photo of the two of them with Joanna—only three at the time—who stood between them and had an arm around each of their legs, poking her head out with a grin. The photo was taken a couple of days before their departure when Eleanora McCoy decided to pay them a visit. They were dressed in their uniforms that day, and he could remember how Joanna suddenly found herself camera shy and decided to hide behind them. The two of them were looking down, away from the camera, busy trying to coax her into smiling.  
  
Pushing the fond memories aside, he continued looking through them until coming across a more recent photograph of her. Handing it over, he told Leonard, “Here, let’s just start with one thing at a time. You can hang onto this until we meet again.”  
  
Hazel eyes blinked, showing no sign of recognition. “This is…?”  
  
“Her name’s Joanna,” Jim informed him, unable to hide the affection in his voice. “She’s living with her grandmother right now. And in a couple months, she’ll be turning nine.”  
  
“Joanna,” Leonard repeated hesitantly. He held the picture in his hands, eyes wide with disbelief. After a long moment, he whispered, “I don’t know what to say….”  
  
Jim shrugged, restraining himself from blurting everything out. “I guess just see if you can remember anything and let me know. If you need to contact me before next week, I’m staying at my friends’ place right now. I wrote down all their contact information on one of the forms you guys made me fill out.” With a sincere smile, he added, “I’m really glad you’re alive, Bones.”  
  
Full of emotion, hazel eyes looked up. “Kirk, I-”  
  
“Doctor McCoy, you’re needed in the ER!”  
  
Hesitantly, Leonard glanced over at him. Jim raised a brow and motioned towards the hallway. “Hurry up and go already. You’re a real doctor now, aren’t you? You’ve got lives to save and whatnot. I’ll see you in a couple days, Bones—I  _can_ still call you Bones, right?”  
  
Leonard nodded his silent consent and made his way towards the door. “I’ll get one of the nurses to go fetch your friends.” Before stepping out, he paused and shot him one last glance. “I guess we’ll continue this in a week then…Jim.”  
  
And then he disappeared.  
  
Shoulders going slack, Jim smiled to himself, feeling deliriously happy. “Yeah, I guess we’ll continue this in a week then, Bones.”  
  
His Leonard McCoy was alive.


	4. Chapter 3

After Leonard left, Jim didn’t have to wait very long for his friends to arrive.  
  
As Uhura and Spock entered the room, they were once again stopped dead in their tracks by the expression on his face. Glancing out into the hallway, Uhura furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Seriously, what’s wrong with your face, Jim? Did something strange happen again? They didn’t give you drugs, did they? I haven’t seen you smile like this since….”  
  
“Since?” Jim asked.  
  
She shook her head and smiled softly at him. “Since a long time ago, Jim. I almost forgot you could smile like that.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like an idiot,” was her automatic response.  
  
Jim debated whether he should tell them about everything that had happened or not. But in the end, he decided against it. They’d find out sooner or later. But for now, he just wanted to savour the moment, so he told them, “It’s just been a really good day.”  
  
He couldn’t have made a bigger understatement if he tried.  
  
“Thanks for the clothes, by the way. They look  _great_ on me,” he added—another understatement as far as he was concerned.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Uhura replied, sounding almost surprised at how agreeable he was being.  
  
Spock wisely chose not to comment on his strange behaviour. “Jim, are you ready to go?”  
  
“Yeah, if you don’t mind me going barefoot that is.”  
  
“Oh, no. You’re not going  _anywhere_  barefoot—especially not in  _public_. I brought you socks and shoes for a reason.” Uhura frowned and walked over to help him put his shoes on with more force than needed.  
  
“And is there anywhere you’d like to go before we make our way back to the house, Jim?” Spock asked.  
  
Ignoring the discomfort radiating from his feet, Jim considered the offer for a moment and shook his head. “No, let’s head back.” After a moment of thought, he added with a wry smirk, “I bet your neighbours are bored without me. I’m pretty much a free source of entertainment for them, aren’t I?”  
  
It wasn’t a secret that he didn’t like the neighbours. Shallow, pretentious, and unashamed of their bigotry like so many others around them, their looks of contempt instantly rubbed Jim the wrong way.  
  
Uhura rolled her eyes. “Which part of your visit has been entertaining for them? Just last week, you ran over their prized rose bushes and stole that pie! You’ve done nothing but wage your private campaign against them since you got here! They’re annoying enough as they are. The last thing I need is more complaints from them.”  
  
“Accident, and that pie was on the windowsill,” Jim protested, wincing when she jammed his left shoe on and laced it up too tightly. “Everyone knows that windowsills are considered neutral zones!”  
  
“You climbed over the fence and snuck through their backyard to steal it!” Shaking her head and calming herself down, she returned to the matter at hand. “Never mind that. I’ll yell at you later. Are you ready to go home?”  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m overdue for a call to the princess.” Then taking a look down at his feet, he couldn’t help but ask, “But first, could you loosen the laces up a little, please? I know you don’t want me running around, but I can’t feel my toes anymore.”  
  
\--  
  
When they arrived at the house, Spock got out of the car to open the garage door. Once the car was parked and the front door opened, hobbling, Jim made a beeline for Spock’s study where the telephone was. Sitting down in Spock’s chair, he wondered why anyone would buy such a stiff and uncomfortable thing. Taking a moment to get as comfortable as he could, he dialed the numbers and asked to be patched over to Atlanta and the McCoy household.  
  
As he waited for the call to go through, he flipped through the impressive collection of 78 rpm records. Ranging from opera to jazz, there was no doubt in his mind that the collection belonged to Uhura. No one else could have such diverse yet refined taste in music. Jim made a mental list of all the ones he planned on listening to during his ‘recuperation period’ because he was certain that he’d be bored out of his mind.  
  
Suddenly, there was a click and a girlish voice answered,  _“Hello, Joanna McCoy speaking!”_  
  
Immediately forgetting about the vinyls, his lips curled into a smile. It was the only time a smile came naturally to him since he got home. “Hey, Jo! How’s my favourite princess?”  
  
 _“Jim!”_ After the initial excitement, Joanna quickly trained her voice into a more displeased tone. _“Your favourite princess is very mad because you haven’t called in so long.”_  
  
He cradled the phone against his ear. “Is that right? And just how mad is she?”  
  
 _“She might be mad enough to hang up on you.”_  
  
Jim’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? She got my letters since the last time I called, didn’t she?”  
  
 _“She did. She got all three! But she’s still mad at you. It’s almost been a **month**  since you last called her. She makes marks on the calendar to track, you know?”_  
  
“Ah, I see. I should’ve known she’d be that diligent.” He nodded to himself. “Well, let her know that she makes a fair argument, and I sincerely apologize for the delay. But she should know that if she hangs up on me, I might not get patched through as quickly again the next time. What if I offer her a super special secret surprise? Would she forgive me then?”  
  
Joanna seemed to consider his offer for a moment.  _“That depends. What kind of super special secret surprise is it?”_  
  
“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I were to give it away, now would it? So am I forgiven?”  
  
She hummed in thought.  _“Fine, you’re forgiven. I missed you, Jim.”_  
  
His eyes softened. “I missed you too, Jo. How’s school going?”  
  
 _“School’s okay. It’s kind of boring, but grandma said it’s because I’m smarter than all the other kids, just like daddy was. I asked my teacher if I could skip school and go straight to college, but she told me that I can’t go until I finish grade school.”_  
  
“Is that right? I hate to break it to you, but your teacher’s right. You need to finish grade school first. There’s no need to rush though, princess. College isn’t that great. There’s no time for fun once you’re in college, so you might as well enjoy grade school while you still can—even if it  _is_  boring.”  
  
 _“I guess. But I promised you and grandma that I’d go to college!”_  
  
Jim paused. He could feel the unwanted memories of the day Joanna made that promise resurfacing.  
  
\--  
  
The blinds were drawn, and the door was shut.  
  
Sitting on what used to be Leonard McCoy’s bed with the covers drawn over him like a child, Jim hid from the world.  
  
When he first returned two weeks ago, he thought he’d be fine. But after a grueling week of nightmare-filled nights and restless days, he realized that he thought wrong. Unable to concentrate on simple tasks around the house or walk outside without feeling the need to drop to the ground at the slightest sound, he felt crippled. He began avoiding the outdoors and continued narrowing his territory until he was confined to Leonard’s bedroom and the kitchen.  
  
It was after a week that Eleanora brought up her concerns and he lashed out at her. Then, immediately realizing what he had done, he shrunk back with widened eyes and apologized. Fearful of himself, in a weak voice, he requested that Joanna not be allowed near him and retreated back to the safety of Leonard’s room. And that was where he stayed for the next week.  
  
The room was filled with photographs and reminders of everything he wanted to escape from, but when Eleanora offered to stow them away, he shook his head.  
  
He couldn’t bear for Leonard’s room to be changed in any way.  
  
Underneath his armour of blankets, Jim felt safe. With only a small breathing hole, he isolated himself in the darkness. He welcomed the numbness that came with the seclusion. With his back against the wall and knees drawn up to his chest, he spent his days concentrating on keeping the memories and hopelessness at bay.  
  
Sometimes, he had bad days—days when he just wanted to end it all and numb everything for good. But he could never bring himself to go through with it; not in the McCoy household.  
  
Twice a day, without fail, Eleanora would leave food in front of him and tell him that one phrase: “It wasn’t your fault, Jim.” And every day, Joanna, only six at the time, would stand outside the door, telling him about her day and asking after him.  
  
He never had the courage to answer.  
  
It wasn’t until one day when he was retreating back to the room from the bathroom that he ran into Joanna. They both froze and stared at each other in horror. Eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights and crying, unkempt, and unshaven, he knew that he must’ve looked like a monster to her. He fled back to Leonard’s room just in time to hear Joanna burst into tears.  
  
He drew the blankets closer around himself and covered his ears to drown out her crying, not wanting to hear just how much he’d scared her.  
  
“Joanna? What happened, dear?” It was Eleanora’s voice.  
  
“Grandma, what’s wrong with Jim?” Joanna asked through her tears.  
  
“Jim’s just not feeling well right now.”  
  
“Why? Is he sick? He’s not going to die, is he?”  
  
“No, dear, he’s just-”  
  
Not waiting for the rest of the explanation, she ran into the room, climbed onto the bed, and threw her arms around him. “Don’t you go off to heaven like daddy did, Jim! I promise I’ll be good and get into college and become a doctor and make you better again! I promise I will!”  
  
It broke his heart to hear her say those words.  
  
Eyes wet with fresh tears, he slowly reached out, letting the blanket fall away and wrapped his arms around her. Voice hoarse from being unused, he rasped, “I’m so sorry, Jo. God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m sorry. Don’t you worry, princess. I’m not sick, and I’m not going to heaven. I wouldn’t leave you like that, okay?”  
  
“Then why are you like this?” she asked through her tears.  
  
It hurt to admit out loud, but as gently as he could, he explained, “It’s like your grandma said, I’m just not feeling very well right now.”  
  
Joanna pulled back and studied him through her tears. “But you’ll get better, right, Jim?”  
  
Jim nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get better, princess. I promise I will. I-”  
  
\--  
  
 _“Jim?”_  
  
Snapping out of his reverie, he took a shuddery breath and forced himself to focus on the present. He answered, “Yeah, princess?”  
  
 _“Will I get to see you soon? Or are you still busy travelling?”_ she asked.  
  
“Don’t worry; we’ll get to see each other soon. I think I’m done travelling.”  
  
 _“Are you feeling better then?”_  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m feeling a lot better, so just take your time and have fun at school. There’s no need to hurry, okay?”  
  
 _“Okay, Jim.”_  
  
“That’s my favourite princess. Now, would you mind putting your grandma on so I can discuss this super special secret surprise with her?”  
  
 _“Okay, just wait, please.”_ He could hear her shuffling and calling out to her grandmother.  _“Grandma! Jim’s on the telephone! He wants to talk to you about a super special secret surprise!”_  
  
Within a minute, he could hear Eleanora McCoy’s voice.  
  
 _“Joanna, be a peach and go do your homework, would you? Thank you, dear. Yes, I’ll let you know when I’m done so you can say goodbye.”_ He could hear shuffling on the other end as Eleanora picked the phone up. _“Hello? Jim?”_  
  
“Hey, El-”  
  
Before he could get another word out, she snapped,  _“Jesus Christ, you rapscallion, do you know how long it’s been since you last called?”_  
  
“Almost a month, according to Jo,” he answered. Then he quickly added, “Ma’am.”  
  
 _“Almost a month is right! Why didn’t you call? We’ve been worried sick about you!”_  
  
“Would it earn me any pity points if I told you that I was in the hospital for the last few days?”  
  
She heaved an exasperated sigh.  _“Oh, good lord, Jim Kirk, what’d you do to yourself this time? You’re alright, aren’t you? I assume you’re at least in decent health to be calling us.”_  
  
“I’m fine,” Jim reassured her. “Just took a tumble off my bike’s all. I got a couple stitches and a bump on the head, but nothing too serious—didn’t even break any bones. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”  
  
 _“Absolutely nothing to worry about, my ass, boy. How many times do I have to tell you to be careful on that damn bike of yours?”_  
  
Her attitude and manner of speaking always made him think of Leonard. “I promise it won’t happen again, ma’am.” Then he changed the subject. “So about this surprise for Jo.”  
  
 _“That’s right, she did mention something about a surprise. What’ve you got in mind, Jim?”_  
  
“I’ll be mailing you train tickets to come visit me. Jo finishes school at the end of May, right?”  
  
 _“Yes, but why?”_  
  
“It’s to do with Bones. You still tell Jo stories about him, right?”  
  
 _“Leonard? I tell her stories every night.”_  
  
He struggled to put everything into words. “That’s good. I…I can’t really explain it all too well myself, but please trust me on this, El.” It was the first time he had asked for any confidence to be placed in him since he returned.  
  
There was a pause.  _“Don’t be silly. Of course I trust you, Jim. You’re family to us.”_  
  
“Thank you,” he told her sincerely, relief rushing through him. “I’ll call again real soon.”  
  
 _“You better, or I’ll buy my own train ticket to wherever the hell you are to teach you a lesson or two about keeping your promises.”_  
  
\--  
  
That night, despite being exhausted from the excitement of everything that happened, Jim tried his best to stay awake. Hand running lightly over the tags, he remained in sitting position, leaning against the headboard. He was afraid that if he went to sleep, he would wake up and find that everything had been a dream. “Leonard H. McCoy,” he muttered to himself, “39563856, T42, 43, O. Joanna McCoy. 820 Ralph McGill Boulevard, Atlanta, Georgia….”  
  
As he repeated the inscription over and over again in a hushed whisper, he glanced out the window and up towards the moon. It was a clear night, so unlike three years ago. A wave of giddiness hit him, still feeling as strange as before, but he welcomed it. “Leonard H. McCoy, MD,  _alive_ , 395….”  
  
He drifted off without ever realizing it.  
  
No nightmares plagued him that night.  
  
\--  
  
Recovery went smoothly for the first few days.  
  
With Spock and Uhura both working at a nearby university, Jim was left alone during the day. He mostly kept himself busy with books, the radio, and music. They didn’t own a television set, much to Jim’s dismay, because Spock thought it illogical to be so hasty in purchasing a rapidly developing product when there would be ‘better options in the market soon enough,’ and Uhura simply didn’t find televisions appealing enough to buy one. So Jim spent his time learning math, physics, linguistics, and fine tuning his singing skills.  
  
Despite his injuries, he managed to scale the fence and steal yet another pie from the housewife next door when she left, presumably, to find a cigarette. He had already eaten a large slice when the wife knocked on the door with a cigarette dangling from her downturned lips. Apparently he had been right about her leaving her pie for a cigarette.  
  
Quickly wiping the crumbs and blueberry jam off his lips and making sure his bandages were visible, he opened the door and asked her what the matter was. After letting her vent, he sent her home with the explanation that he couldn’t  _possibly_  have climbed a fence with his  _extensive_  injuries and no, his teeth were dyed purple because Nyota had bought blueberries from the store the other day—oh? The pie was a blueberry pie? What a coincidence! He had no idea she even baked a pie and was very sorry to hear that someone took it off her windowsill.  
  
Once he closed the door, he returned to the kitchen to help himself to another generous slice of blueberry pie while with his best Louis Armstrong voice. He even made sure the windows were open so that the lady next door could appreciate his musical talents.  
  
She responded by slamming her window shut and pulling the curtains down.  
  
“How rude. I thought I hit those notes rather well,” he muttered to himself, taking a bite of pie.  
  
Later that day, “What did you do this time?” was the first thing Uhura said to him when she got home from work. “The lady next door wouldn’t stop glaring at us when we pulled in.”  
  
“I have no idea. Isn’t she  _always_  that rude to you guys? Maybe she got herself worked up over non-chauvinistic thoughts—you know, working women and equality for all and whatnot. She’s bound to give herself a heart attack one day. You shouldn’t worry about her; the lady’s crazy.” Jim offered as innocently as he could and held up the remaining half of the pie. “Blueberry pie?”  
  
Sighing, she sat down and didn’t even bother reprimanding him. “I’ll have a small slice.”  
  
\--  
  
 _The rain keeps falling._  
  
 _“Bones! Come on, answer me, Bones!”_  
  
 _No response._  
  
 _Those hazel eyes remain closed._  
  
 _Is that blood or mud covering the man? He can’t tell the difference between the two anymore._  
  
 _“Please, Bones, open your eyes,” he pleads. “Jo’s waiting for us to get home. You can’t leave me alone.”_  
  
 _An explosion goes off to the right and the ground rumbles beneath him-_  
  
 _\--_  
  
Jim sat up with a gasp.  
  
Hand flying up to his tags out of reflex, he immediately began focussing on getting his breathing back under control. “He’s alive,” he tried to tell himself. “Calm down, Kirk. He’s alive. You saw him not a week ago. He’s alive.” Though he kept repeating those words to himself, his brain simply didn’t believe him. The memories felt too real.  
  
He needed to see Leonard for himself.  
  
Fueled with the need to confirm his words, he slipped out of bed and pulled on the clothes Uhura had brought him at the hospital. At least she wouldn’t be able to scold him for leaving the house without getting properly dressed first.  With his wounds mostly healed, he was able to get his socks on without too much difficulty. It wasn’t until he got dressed that he remembered that his motorcycle had been totalled.  
  
His thoughts turned to Spock’s Cadillac.  
  
Jim knew it was a bad idea—an absolutely  _terrible_  idea—but spurred by a frenzy of desperation, he ignored the little voice or morality in the back of his head. Sneaking down the stairs, he turned into the kitchen and grabbed the keys, and then he proceeded to leave via the backdoor again. Distracted by the sun peaking over the horizon while circling around to the garage, Jim couldn’t help scowling when he stepped onto the dew covered lawn.  
  
Once he was in the garage, he shucked off his wet socks. The discomfort reminded him too much of trekking through mud and rain for what felt like decades in Europe. Then he found himself facing another problem: starting the car up without waking anyone up.  
  
Throwing his shoes into the car, he shifted the car into neutral gear and pushed it out of the garage. If he scratched the car even just the slightest, Spock would notice and Uhura would maim him. And everyone he knew would get on his case if he ripped the stitches whilst ‘borrowing’ the car. To avoid both scenarios, he took extra care when pushing it out.  
  
When he got out onto the drive, he closed the garage, hopped into the car and took off.  
  
\--  
  
At six in the morning, the phone rang. Sitting at the breakfast table, Uhura looked up. “I’ll get it.” She put down her newspaper and made her way over to the study to answer. “Hello, Nyota Uhura speaking.”  
  
The voice on the other end sounded hesitant.  _“…hello? Um, this is Doctor McCoy from the hospital.”_  
  
Surprised, she repeated his name, “Doctor McCoy?”  
  
 _“Yes. I’m Mr. Kirk’s doctor. Is he in right now?”_  
  
Although confused, she managed to answer, “Yes. He’s probably still asleep. Let me go get him. Just hold on, please.” Putting the phone on the desk, she left the room. On her way to the stairway, she poked her head into kitchen where Spock was eating his breakfast. “A ‘Doctor McCoy’ just called for Jim.”  
  
Spock looked up with a raised brow. “Fascinating. Do you suspect this has anything to do with his strange behaviour as of lately?”  
  
Uhura shook her head. “I don’t know. Let me go wake him up first.”  
  
When she reached the door to the guestroom, she knocked on it and received no reply. “Jim? There’s a Doctor McCoy looking for you. Come on, I know you’re not a heavy sleeper.”  
  
She was answered with silence.  
  
Sighing in exasperation, Uhura turned the knob. “I’m coming in, Ji- ” The door swung open only to reveal an empty room. She blinked and looked around. “Jim?”  
  
Checking all rooms upstairs, she returned downstairs. “Spock? I can’t find Jim anywhere. Do you know where he is?”  
  
“Perhaps he felt the need to go out for fresh air again,” he suggested.  
  
“But the last I checked, he was still looking for a new bike so he couldn’t have left without….” She trailed off and the two of them exchanged alarmed glances before racing out to the garage.  
  
Inside, all they found was a pair of wet socks lying where the car was supposed to be.


	5. Chapter 4

After taking several wrong turns and detours, Jim finally found the hospital. Parking the car, he made his way into the hospital. Asking the receptionist for the location of Leonard’s office, he quickly thanked her and scurried off. Within minutes, he found himself standing in front of Leonard McCoy’s office, he found the door locked and shut.

Curling up on a chair nearby, he waited, legs twitching, agitated and impatient.

Suddenly, a voice called out, “Jim Kirk? Is that you? What on earth are you doing here this early in the morning? Is everything alright?”

Giving a jolt of surprise, he looked up, muscles tense, adrenaline pumping through his veins. But when he saw who it was, he immediately reined his instinct to stand at attention back. His voice came out weaker than he had intended when he replied, “Nurse Chapel? I’m fine. What are you doing out here?”

Chapel studied him for a moment before answering, “I was just about to take off for a smoke break. Doctor McCoy’s real strict about us not smoking around the patients. He insists it’s bad for your health. Now, I’m not about to doubt him on anything that’s health-related, but I’m still waiting to see some research to back up his word on the matter. Care to join me?”

Jim shook his head and declined the offer. “I got scared out of smoking after an experiment a friend did years ago.” Too restless and twitchy, he didn’t have it in him to flirt around, to be the Jim Kirk he had spent so much time perfecting. Looking down the hall, he wished Leonard would show up soon. “Do you know when Doctor McCoy will get in?”

“Well, his shift starts in less than an hour and he always comes in early, so it should be soon.” She looked at him with worry evident on her face. “Are you alright, Jim?”

He wasn’t—hadn’t been for years.

“I’m fine,” he replied without smiling. He wished she would just leave him alone already. “Don’t mind me. My injuries aren’t acting up or anything. I just need to talk to him about something. I’ll holler if something’s wrong. Promise.”

Sensing the gravity in his tone of voice, Chapel nodded. “Alright, as long as you promise. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

He acknowledged her concern with a silent nod.

Listening to her footsteps disappear down the hall, he curled back up. He kept his hand on his tags and his eyes trained on the ground. If he closed them, he knew he’d see that cold and silent Leonard McCoy again. So busy concentrating on keeping his mind blank, he didn’t notice a heavier set of footsteps approaching him until a baffled voice spoke up, “What the…? Kirk?”

Head snapping up, Jim stared at the man with widened eyes.

Alive.

Leonard McCoy was still alive.

Jim took a deep breath, feeling the tension drain from his muscles. “Bones….”

Still standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Leonard furrowed his brows in confusion. “What the hell are you doing here, kid? I was just on the phone with your friends and they said you disappeared somewhere. They sounded worried sick about you! Why didn’t you tell them where you were going? And why are you here?”

In his panic, the only time Jim spared his friends any thought was when he was trying to get the car out of the garage without them noticing. He knew he was going to regret his actions later. But for now, Leonard was standing in front of him, scowling and reprimanding him in such a familiar way that it set Jim’s heart at ease.

“Hey, are you listening to me at all?”

Blue eyes blinked. “What? Yeah. Of course I was listening.”

“Bullshit.” Clearly worried, Leonard put his coffee and briefcase down and began examining him on the spot. “Are you hurting anywhere? Is your vision blurring at all?”

Leonard’s hands felt so warm that it left him speechless.

When he didn’t receive an answer, Leonard frowned. “Kirk?”

“Jim,” he managed to get out. “Call me Jim…. Please.”

Leonard paused for a moment, then he said softly, “Jim, I need you to tell me if anything’s hurting, or if you feel like there’s anything wrong with you.”

There were so many things wrong with him.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Funny, the last I checked ‘fine’ didn’t mean sneaking out of your friends’ house at god knows what hour in the morning. And it sure as hell didn’t mean sitting on a chair and staring at me like the sky just fell and crushed your dog.”

Jim found those crotchety, well meaning words reassuring. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

Scowling, Leonard barked, “Cut the bullshit, Jim, and tell me what happened—and nothing’s not an option.”

“That’s cheating, isn’t it—taking away perfectly good answers?” he asked quietly, avoiding the question.

“Jim. Stop being so stubborn and answer me. Are you alright?”

He looked away. He’d never been able to go against Leonard when he sounded so serious and concerned. With no small amount of reluctance, he admitted, “I…I just have bad days sometimes, and I guess I just wanted to see you.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” Jim muttered.

“…alright.” Leonard continued examining him in silence. Once he was satisfied with what he found—or in this case, didn’t find—he unlocked his door and stepped inside. Then he poked his head back out and asked, “Are you going to sit in the hallway all day? Get your ass in here, kid. My shift starts in fifteen.”

Doing as he was told without complaint, Jim uncurled himself and shuffled into the office and plopped down on the nearest chair.

Hazel eyes spared him a glance. “Do you always run around without socks?”

“They got wet,” Jim explained with a shrug. “I don’t like wet socks. So why were you trying to get a hold of me? Did you remember something?”

Leonard rolled his eyes and sat down in his own chair. “No, I just rolled out of bed this morning and thought to myself, ‘Well, goodness me, today seems like the perfect day to call Jim Kirk!’”

He almost managed to smile at that. “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me.”

“I’m sure.” As though sensing that Jim wasn’t going to contribute any further to the conversation, Leonard wrung his hands for a moment before blurting out, “It was a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than three.”

Jim’s eyes widened as he turned his full attention to Leonard who returned his stare with wide, hesitant eyes.

“She called me ‘Daddy’, Jim. That’s why I called,” Leonard whispered, his voice laced with guilt and disbelief. He took out the photograph Jim had given him and frowned. “I forgot about my own daughter. I forgot about Joanna. She’s already grown so much since then. And I still only remember that tiny fragment of our time together….”

He could feel the frustration behind the last statement and shook his head, his own troubles momentarily forgotten. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Bones. You just started. The fact that you remembered anything at all is a really good sign, isn’t it?”

Nodding forlornly, Leonard took a shuddery breath and in a quiet voice, he pleaded, “Tell me this is going to work, Jim.”

“Come on, it’s going to be fine.” He stood up, spread his arms as wide as he could with his stitches and offered, “Do you need a hug? Come on, Bones, I’ll give you a hug. I think it’ll do us both a world of good.” Walking around the desk, Jim pulled Leonard up and wrapped his arms around him.

Leonard was so warm.

He didn’t want to let go.

“I want to see her,” Leonard muttered into his shoulder. “I need to know that she’s okay.”

“And you will,” Jim told him, “because she’ll be coming here for her summer break. It’s already been arranged.”

Hazel eyes widened with excitement and anxiousness. “What? She’s coming here? Really? What if she doesn’t remember me? What if I still don’t remember everything by then?”

“Then I’ll fill you in,” Jim quickly reassured him. “It’ll work out, Bones. Just trust me on this,” he told the man with a pat on the back. “If you were a patient, what would you tell yourself?”

Huffing, Leonard didn’t answer.

From experience, Jim knew that he’d won the argument. “Bones….”

“I’d tell myself to take it easy. Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Leonard admitted with no small amount of reluctance. “I can’t believe you just made me give advice to myself when I should be the one telling you what to do.”

“What can I say? Jim and Bones.”

And he finally managed a smile.

Leonard snorted. “Jim and Bones indeed. I still can’t believe I forgot her.”

“It was beyond your control. There’s no point in beating yourself up over it.”

“But I don’t remember anything about her! I don’t know what she enjoys doing. I don’t know if she gets along with other kids. I don’t know what she likes and doesn’t like to eat. I don’t know any of her habits. I don’t know what she wants to be when she grows up. I don’t know anything about my own daughter!”

Jim paused. “Well, like I said before, she’s living with her grandma, and she’s in grade school right now. She gets along with everyone, but she finds school boring. Her grandma thinks that’s probably because she’s smarter than the other kids—just like her dad was. She wants to go to college to become a doctor. At dinner, she sorts her food by colour and eats the most colourful ones last. She loves peaches and hates Brussels sprouts. You’ll remember more about her, just give it time.”

Hazel eyes blinked, instantly calming down in order to process all the information that’d just been thrown at him. “I…you’re right. Shit, my shift’s about to begin.” Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. “Thanks for telling me all that. I needed it.”

“Are you going to be alright, Bones?” he asked.

Leonard nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I can’t deal with. Wait, shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Role-reversal, hmm?” He chuckled. “I’ll be fine. We’re just the most messed up pair around here, aren’t we?”

“I won’t even try to deny it. By the way, I should advise you to call your friends before they come looking for you.”

Spock and Uhura had completely slipped his mind—again. “What day is it?”

“Tuesday, why?”

Jim paused, his lips curling into a sheepish grin. “…whoops. I sure hope they found a way to work.”

Hazel eyes narrowed. “You didn’t….”

“I did, and I’ll definitely pay for it later. Don’t even bother lecturing me, Bones, they’ve got you covered. I’ll probably get an earful for not wearing socks too.” He could already see Uhura shaking her head in frustration and Spock’s disapproving eyebrow raise.

Shaking his head, Leonard grabbed his doctor’s coat and made his way to the door. “Do you know how to get back to your friends’ place?” And when Jim averted his eyes and answered with silence, he heaved a sigh. “Give the front desk the address and they should be able to give you directions. I’ll see you in two days. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

He nodded. “I’ll try my best. You make sure you call me if you remember anything else, okay?”

“I will,” Leonard promised. “Oh, and Jim?”

Blinking, he watched as Leonard turned around and returned to his desk and scribbled something onto a piece of paper. Curious, he asked, “Yeah?”

“Here’s my number, instead of stealing people’s cars like a criminal, just call me if you need me, got it? If I’m not at home, then I’m probably at work. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll listen, okay?”

Jim nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “Okay, Bones.”

\--

He was both right and wrong about his speculations about his friends’ reactions. He was napping on the couch when they returned home, storming through the doors like he expected them to. Opening his eyes groggily but feeling immensely better, Jim sat up and waited for the inevitable. But instead of yelling at him, Spock and Uhura merely stood by the doorway and watched him with stern expressions on their faces.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Jim looked from one person to the next. Desperate to get some sort of reaction from the two, he asked, “Did you guys manage to get to work alright?”

Uhura crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, but she remained silent.

Jim began fidgeting with his tags. Loud noises might startle him, but silence scared him. His first instinct was anger, but he managed to swallow it down. “Guys? Can you say something, please?”

When he still didn’t receive a reply, he began wishing he’d stolen another pie to use as a peace offering, but he was pretty sure that the lady next door wouldn’t be leaving her pies unattended again anytime soon.

“I’m sorry about taking your car without permission, okay? I’ll try not to do it again, but I really needed to go somewhere. It’s still safe and sound, no scratches or dents or anything! That’s got to count for something!” he tried.

The silence was driving him crazy.

“Fine! It was the hospital, okay?” he blurted out. “I had to see someone at the hospital. Are you going to kick me out? Please don’t kick me out. I know you have a lot to deal with already and I’m probably not helping, but please don’t kick me out, I’ve got something I have to do here. Guys? Please say something.”

Spock raised a brow and turned to Uhura. “It would appear that your hospital hypothesis was correct.”

Uhura smiled. “And Scotty was right about the silence tactic. I feel better now that I’ve seen him squirm a little.”

He felt both relieved and betrayed by their words. Waiting for the anger to simmer away, he shot them a disapproving frown. “That’s an underhanded move. Wait, you got a ride from Scotty? Where is he? How come he didn’t come in to say hi?”

“He’s currently in the middle of a project and couldn’t bear to part with it any longer than absolutely necessary,” Spock informed him. “He sent his regards.” Folding his arms behind his back, he continued, “Jim, I believe we need to discuss your habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night—with my car.” Spock’s tone might’ve remained even, but Jim could hear the underlying annoyance in it.

In a weak voice, Jim said, “In my defence, it was early morning. And I returned it perfectly intact.”

Spock was unmoved by his words. “Jim, if you ever take my car without explicit permission from either Nyota or myself again, I will, as you like to say, ‘kick your ass.’ And that is all I will say on the matter. I believe I conveyed my sentiments and warned you of future consequences in the most concise and efficient manner possible. Do you have any questions?”

Jim shook his head, not wanting to further evoke the wrath of his friends. Spock could be terrifying when he wanted to be, and he didn’t even have to raise his voice. “None whatsoever.”

“Now that we’ve got that part out of the way,” Uhura began, “tell us about this Doctor McCoy that called and asked for you this morning. I assume this is why you were at the hospital?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He felt like he should be standing at attention, but he couldn’t be bothered to.

“Without socks.”

Jim nodded and repeated, “Without socks.” Then he couldn’t help but add, “I know it’s a huge fashion faux pas, but they got wet and you know I can’t stand wet socks.”

Ignoring his excuses, she continued, “Who is Doctor McCoy?” As always, she never danced around the topic and got straight to the point. It was a trait he appreciated about her.

“He’s Bones,” Jim answered, causing both Spock and Uhura to arch their eyebrows. They spent too much time together, he thought, even their eyebrow arches have synced up.

“He’s the Leonard McCoy we knew?” she asked, unconvinced.

Tempted as he was to correct her on her usage of past tense, he refrained and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. One and the same.”

She studied him for a moment to make sure he was being serious. “How?”

“I’m not too sure, he hasn’t told me everything yet. But it’s definitely him,” Jim insisted.

Uhura frowned, growing more skeptical with every question. “He’s a doctor now?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s sat his exams and everything.”

“Why didn’t he try to contact any of us?”

“Because he didn’t remember—still doesn’t,” he told her.

She furrowed her brows. “Doesn’t remember what?”

“Anything. Any of us.”

“Not even you?”

Jim swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. Not even me.”

“Or Joanna?”

“Or Joanna.” Then he corrected himself, “Well, I gave him things to work with so he sort of remembers her now. That’s why he called this morning.” Studying her expression, he sighed. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I’m having a hard time believing you,” she admitted.

“Can’t really blame you. I had a hard time believing it myself.”

Uhura massaged her temples and sighed. “Let me see if I understood you correctly. So you’re saying Leonard McCoy—our Leonard McCoy is alive and working as a doctor at the hospital, and he’s suffering from memory loss.”

He nodded. “You summed it up perfectly. It’s hard to believe, I get that, but it’s really him. Does this make my actions a little more acceptable?” he tried, hopeful.

She shot him a glare that made him shut his mouth immediately. “No. Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

“Would you have believed me?” Jim asked.

Opening and closing her mouth for a moment, Uhura shook her head and conceded, “No, probably not.” She sounded apologetic but still not entirely convinced.

“I don’t blame you.” He shrugged. “If I hadn’t seen him and talked to him—and got lectured by him, I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

She studied him for a moment before making up her mind. “We’ll come with you.”

Jim blinked. “What?”

“When you go get your stitches removed, we’ll come with you. We’ll have to drive you there anyways. I need to see Leonard with my own eyes.”

He glanced over at the two. “Spock? Will you be coming too?”

Spock, who’d been watching their conversation in silence, replied with a nod.

“You need the adult supervision,” Uhura muttered.

Jim chuckled. “Aww, you make us sound like a real family. You two make the best makeshift parents ever.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. We are family—it’s just too bad we can’t ground you. You’re nothing but trouble, Jim Kirk.”

Touched by her words, he shot them a crooked smile and shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s what makes me so lovable.”


	6. Chapter 5

Leonard sighed and put his patient’s chart away. He’d had to work eight days in a row now and was starting to notice it. The hospital was in the process of hiring a couple of new doctors to help free up his, and the other doctors’ schedules a little, but the director was hesitating to seal the deal. And for what? All because a few of the new guys’ skin weren’t quite the same colour as theirs?  
  
It was just nonsense.  
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he checked his schedule to see who was next on his list.  
  
Jim Kirk.  
  
The mere thought of the man sent images of his little girl, his Joanna, into his mind. He wondered what she was doing now. Did she think he was dead or just missing? Which grandmother was she living with? His mother? Or that of her unknown mother’s? Where  _was_ her mother?  _Who_  was her mother?  
  
So many questions flooded his head, none of which he had answers for.  
  
Jim Kirk—he was the only connection Leonard had to his past.  
  
When the man was first brought in, Leonard had thought he was an idiot. After all, what kind of person rode around on a motorcycle in the middle of the night like that? Jim had always been asleep by the time Leonard got around to his room, so they never actually had the chance to interact until the last day. He had all the escape stories Chapel had told him though. Even when concussed, Jim Kirk simply could not sit still. Amused, Leonard had started a tally to keep track of all the attempted escapes next to Jim’s name plate on the door.  
  
He had to admit that he’d been hesitant to trust the man when they first spoke , but even he could see that there was nothing but conviction in those blue, blue eyes when he called Leonard ‘Bones’. The rest of his doubts dissipated when he was given the picture of his daughter. Surely, they had to be friends if Jim carried a picture of Joanna in his wallet and was able to speak about her with such a deep level of affection. The man obviously had problems beyond a simple concussion and lacerations, but then again, who didn’t?  
  
And how could he complain when Jim even remembered the date of his birth?  
  
January 21st, 1917. That made him, Leonard H. McCoy, 31 years old. That simple little date meant that he had a birthday and an age. He found it strange that such a little titbit of information was enough to make him so  _happy_.  
  
Before he knew it, Leonard had reached Jim’s room. Inside, he could hear Chapel and Jim immersed in conversation. “Don’t worry about it, Jim. We all go through rough patches. You should see Doctor McCoy every morning before his first cup of coffee,” she said, her tone light and teasing.  
  
 “Can’t say I’m surprised. I bet he’s a real ogre,” Jim agreed with a chuckle.  
  
Deciding that that was as good a time as any to enter the room, he opened the door and muttered, “I wouldn’t be such a damned ogre if they would hurry up and hire the new guys so I can finally get a full night’s worth of sleep.”  
  
Jim immediately turned to him and smiled. “Doctor McCoy, you seem to have this uncanny ability to walk in whenever we start talking about you. Were you standing by the door and eavesdropping or something? That’d be awfully rude of you.”  
  
He rolled his eyes and seamlessly joined in the conversation.  “No, of course I wasn’t. There was a course back in medical school that they made us sit through. It was all about teaching doctors when to interrupt people’s conversations—especially when it’s gossip. Needless to say, I aced that course effortlessly.” Turning to Chapel, he nodded. “Nurse Chapel, I can take it from here, thank you.”  
  
“Of course, Doctor McCoy,” Chapel said, leaving the room.  
  
Once she was out of the room, he began looking over Jim’s stitches and asked him, “You didn’t steal your friends’ car again did you, you hoodlum?”  
  
“No, sir,” Jim told him, eyes wide and earnest. “They drove me here. Look, Nyota even made sure I wore socks here, and they even match.” He lifted his legs and wiggled his toes underneath the fabric. “Have to admit, I don’t really miss the hospital gown, but I guess I can deal with it one last time.”  
  
“One last time? That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” Leonard scoffed. “I can’t believe you need someone to remind you to wear socks like a normal person. Just hold still and this shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”  
  
“Speaking of minutes, I hope you have a little extra time today because there are people sitting in the waiting room who’d like to see you,” Jim told him.  
  
Furrowing his brow, he asked, “What? Now why would anyone want to do something like that?” Then it clicked. “They used to know me too?”  
  
“Yep, we all went to the same city for college—or med school, in your case. They even babysat Joanna at times when you needed a break,” Jim explained. “You and Spock didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but you and Nyota got along quite famously, I think. She was definitely nicer to you.”  
  
Removing the stitches, he frowned. “That might’ve been the case, Jim. But I don’t remember them. Do they know I’m like…this?”  
  
Jim’s eyes softened. “They know, Bones. It’s not that big of a deal that you don’t remember them. Well, it actually is, but they’re your friends too. We’ll help you through it, okay? Right now, they just want to see with their own eyes that it’s really you because I think they think I’ve gone a bit funny in the head. Maybe they’ll be able to come up with ways to help you get your memories faster—ow! I know you’re anxious and all, but can’t you be a little gentler?”  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, not really meaning it. “What am I even supposed to say to them? ‘Hello, you know me but I don’t know you. Mighty sorry about that.’?” He wanted to add that Chapel—and more recently, Jim—aside, casual socializing didn’t come as naturally to him as he’d like it to.  
  
“You don’t have to say anything. They’ll do their best to not make you uncomfortable, or I think they will. Either way, they have a lot more self-restraint than me. It’ll be fine,” Jim promised. “They miss you a lot, Bones. Please? At least let them know you’re doing well.”  
  
Leonard sighed. “Fine. I’ll indulge you this one time and go meet them after we’re finished here.”  
  
Blue eyes immediately lit up and Leonard felt like he’d just been tricked. “Great! By the way, remember anything new?” Jim asked.  
  
The question triggered images of Joanna running towards a lake in a summer dress, turning back and smiling at him. There was the sensation of a familiar presence next to him, but in his memory, perhaps being comfortable with whoever it was around, the old him never bothered turning his gaze away from his little girl. Feelings of love, contentment and gratefulness filled his senses when he remembered that summery scene by the lake.  
  
The thoughts of summer then brought images of the sun blazing in the sky on lazy afternoons, a gentle breeze blowing through his hair, climbing trees and picking peaches, and sipping sweet tea on the porch with two people he assumed to be his parents. There were fewer emotions attached to those memories which were clearly older, but there was always an underlying sensation of contentment. He described the images to Jim and asked, “Would it be safe to assume that that’s my childhood?”  
  
Jim nodded. “Sure sounds like it. You did love your peach trees and sweet tea—never really got over them.”  
  
He still enjoyed his sweet tea, but he wasn’t about to get either of their hopes up because of a little coincidence. “And what about those people—my parents? Are they still alive? What about siblings? Did I have any of those?”  
  
At this, Jim hesitated. “Your mother’s still alive and kicking in Georgia, and you have an estranged older sister who got married and moved out when you were in high school or college or something.”  
  
Ah, more people he’d forgotten about.  
  
“Wow, you sure know a lot about me,” he mumbled, removing the last of the stitches on Jim’s legs and moving up to his arms.  
  
Jim smiled, stretching his stitch-free legs. “What can I say? Jim and Bones.”  
  
Somehow, the way Jim said it made it sound like so much more than he was letting on. Unsure of how much deeper he wanted to delve in fear of what he would find, Leonard decided not to comment on it. Instead, he slapped Jim’s legs back down with a glare. “Don’t you even think about stretching and kicking your legs around in front of me,” he warned. “If you reopen your wounds, I’m just gonna say, 'Nuts to you,' and let you bleed out.”  
  
\--  
  
Following Jim down the hall, Leonard swallowed hard, feeling more nervous than he had for years. He had friends waiting for him—friends he didn’t remember. Their names hadn’t rang any bells, so he could only wonder at what he was about to be greeted with. More of his past was about to be revealed to him, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. He wiped his clammy palms against his coat and worried the inside of his cheek. Given how much time he spent at the hospital, aside from the nurses, he rarely had the chance to brush up on his socializing skills.  
  
As though sensing his discomfort, Jim turned around and shot him a reassuring look. “You’re going to be fine, Bones! Would you stop fidgeting around like that? You’re making  _me_  nervous. You’d think I was bringing you to meet my parents or something.” He looked as though he had a comment to add to that, but after a moment of consideration, he added, instead, “If it helps, you can pretend they’re my parents and complain to them about what a terrible patient I am.”  
  
“That probably  _would_ help,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid further fiddling. “Complaining about you—at least that’s a topic I  _know_  I can talk in great lengths about.”  
  
“Isn’t that great? You guys can get reacquainted via  _me_! I’m sure Nyota’s just dying to tell you all about what a menace I’m being for her ever so lovely neighbour,” Jim told him with a pleased grin. “She can tell you how I got her a free delicious blueberry pie a couple of days ago.”  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes. “You seem to have worked out the entire conversation in your head already. Why don’t you just write it down somewhere and I’ll read off of it instead?”  
  
“Where would be the fun in that?” Approaching the waiting room, Jim clasped his arm and pulled him over to the far end of the room.  
  
The waiting room was filled with the sound of crackled music from the radio and the constant, low humming from a generator somewhere, and the whirling of the ceiling fans. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of cigarettes being lit up and smoked by patients and visitors alike in the waiting room. Sure, it was fashionable to smoke or simply to have a cigarette in hand, but it didn’t hold any appeal for him. After all, who was he trying to impress?  
  
Jim called out, “Spock, Nyota, guess who?”  
  
At the mention of their names, a couple stood up and turned to face them. The woman gasped and covered her mouth with her hand while the man’s eyebrows shot up. Seeing them didn’t spark any memories, much to Leonard’s disappointment. The same couldn’t be said for the woman though; Leonard knew genuine grief and delight when he saw it, and it made him wonder why there was so much of both in her eyes when she looked at him.  
  
Eager to break the spell of silence that had befallen them, Leonard cleared his throat and held out a hand, muttering sheepishly, “Hello. I guess you two already know, but I’m—”  
  
“ _Leonard_ ,” the woman cut him off, closing the gap between them with a hug. “It’s really you. I thought I’d never get to see you again!”  
  
Eyes wide, Leonard turned to Jim with an alarmed expression on his face. Jim merely shrugged and shot him a helpless smile, looking a little taken aback as well. “Looks like I might’ve been wrong about the self-restraint bit.”  
  
Before he could return the embrace, Nyota pulled back and cupped his face, studying him closely. Her eyes were wet, but there was a smile, albeit a disbelieving one, on her face. “If what Jim said is true,” she began, searching his face for confirmation; “then you have no idea who I am, and it must’ve felt like you just got hugged by a stranger.”  
  
He didn’t know how to respond to her comment.  
  
“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, but it’s just—” she paused and glanced upwards, blinking a few times to keep the tears at bay, “it’s just I never thought that—it’s so good to see you again, Leonard. We missed you.”  
  
It took his brain a moment to process those words. He was loved and missed by these people, and they looked so  _happy_  to see him. The idea that he’d once led a different life had never seemed more real, and it filled him with both excitement and dread. He didn’t know what kind of man these people were expecting to find and questions began filling his mind. What if the old Leonard McCoy wasn’t like this? Would that mean he would have to change who he was now? Would he have to disappear in order to make way for the old Leonard to return?  
  
Jim gave him a light nudge and shot him a worried look.  
  
Realizing that he was standing there and gaping like an idiot, Leonard quickly shook his head. “Oh no, I’m not complaining at all. How can I complain about getting hugged by a beautiful woman? I just feel a little guilty because you obviously know— _knew_  me from before but I don’t remember a thing. I could just kick myself.”  
  
“Please do not fret over this, doctor. Jim has explained your situation to us and we understand,” Spock spoke for the first time. He wondered if it was normal for a person to be completely free of emotions. “We are merely pleased to see you alive and well.”  
  
“And still ever the gentleman.” Nyota smiled and reassured him, “Spock’s right. Names can be learnt. It’s no problem, Leonard. Now that we’ve got the hug out of the way, let’s start again. Just pretend this is an introduction.” She held out her hand. “Hello, my name’s Nyota Uhura, and this is Spock.”  
  
“He’s the one that all the nurses are keen on,” Jim added helpfully. “His name isn’t just Spock, but it’s unpronounceable to anyone other than Nyota, so we all just call him Spock.”  
  
Shaking her hand, Leonard nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nyota, Spock. I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy. I was the one who treated Jim’s wounds. I understand that he’s living with you right now?”  
  
The woman turned her eyes skywards and sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. He’s nothing but a menace, but we put up with him for reasons I can’t fully grasp. Did he behave himself?”  
  
Jim laughed and shot Leonard an ‘I told you so’ look. “I was an absolute angel,  _mom_. Look, no more stitches! Doctor Bones here got’em all out. I’m sure the lady next door will be thrilled to see me all better. Maybe I’ll play some good old Dizzy Gillespie and dance offbeat for her.”  
  
Leonard looked over at the pair. “Good lord, how do you put up with him?”  
  
“With a great deal of patience,” Spock deadpanned.  
  
“Doctor McCoy? Your next patient is ready for you,” Chapel called from down the hall.  
  
Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he nodded at his nurse and turned back to the three. “Sorry to cut this short, but I suppose I should get back to work if I want any chance of going home on time today. It was nice meeting you—” he paused and corrected himself with a wry smile, “—make that re-meeting you, I guess. It’s comforting to know that I had at least a few friends before.”  
  
Spock shook his head. “It is understandable, doctor. You have a busy schedule. We should stop taking up your time and depart.”  
  
Nyota added, “And Leonard, call us whenever you want. We’re still your friends now—that is, if that’s alright with you. I understand that you’re probably leading a separate life right now, what with being a doctor and all, but we’d really like to see you again.”  
  
He paused. Eyes wide with surprise, his lips slowly curled upwards. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t really have a life outside this hospital. They’re working me to the bone here. So I guess what I’m trying to say is: that’d be nice. I’d like to remain in contact very much. Thank you.” Then, turning to Jim, he said, “And you. Try to stay out of trouble. No strenuous activities and whatever stunts you’re thinking of. I don’t want to see you here as a patient for at least a couple of months.”  
  
Jim clutched at his heart in a melodramatic manner. “You hurt me with your suspicion and low standards, Bones. Only a couple of months? I’ll have you know that I  _always_  try to stay out of trouble, it’s trouble that has a problem with staying away from me.”  
  
With a scoff, Leonard rolled his eyes and took off down the hall with a wave.  
  
On his way to his next patient, he was joined by Chapel who noted, “I see you were talking to Jim’s friends. They seem like nice people, don’t they, boss?”  
  
He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they do. Makes me wish I knew them.”  
  
\--  
  
Although Leonard had their number, he didn’t have the courage to make the first move. Luckily, Jim saved him the trouble and called him at quarter to five in the morning nearly a week later. Leonard had picked up, thinking it would be the hospital on the other line, calling him in for an emergency. Although the hospital had finally passed the motion to hire the new doctors, with Geoffrey M’Benga being the one he most strongly advocated for, all the emergency calls were still being routed to him.  
  
What he hadn’t expected was a soft, uncertain voice asking, “ _Bones?_ ”  
  
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he groaned, “Jim? The sun’s not even out yet. Is something wrong? Oh god, you didn’t open your wounds or hurt yourself again, did you? I don’t do house calls. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”  
  
There was a sigh of relief on the other line. “ _No, nothing like that, Bones, and nothing that’ll require an ambulance.”_  
  
It was Leonard’s turn to let out a breath of relief. “You better not be calling out of boredom because if you are, I swear I’ll find my way over then and send you straight to a morgue.”  
  
“ _No, nothing like that either_ ,” Jim reassured him in a hushed voice; Leonard assumed it was to avoid waking his caretakers up.  
  
Pulling up a nearby chair, one of few pieces of furniture in his Spartan flat, he sat down and asked, “Having one of your bad days?”  
  
 _“Yeah_ ,” was the mumbled reply.  
  
His doctoring instincts kicked in. “Do you experience these very often?”  
  
 _“They’re on and off,”_  Jim answered. “ _It’s gotten better compared to when it first started though.”_  
  
“Do you feel like talking about it yet?”  
  
Jim paused _. “No, not really.”_  
  
“Then what can I do to help?” he asked.  
  
 _“Just…talk, Bones. Can you just talk for awhile?”_  
  
He briefly considered hanging up and salvaging whatever little time he had left to sleep. But Jim was a patient and a friend (both old and new), and whether it was because of his past self or his being a doctor, Leonard knew that he simply didn’t have it in himself to deny the man this request. “I don’t know what to talk about.”  
  
 _“How about you tell me what happened in Europe after you woke up?_ ” Jim suggested, his voice hopeful.  
  
Leonard thought of the little old woman who’d rescued him. He wondered how she was doing. Despite the arthritis in her knees and hips, she was a robust woman who slapped his hand away whenever he offered her assistance. The thought of her made him smile. He’d written letters to her, using a mixture of broken French and English, and she always wrote back in her local dialect of French, telling him that everyone was doing well.  
  
 _“Bones?”_  
  
He blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m still here. My mind just wandered off for a moment there. My time in Europe wasn’t that interesting. I spent most of it in a little town in Belgium….” Leonard tried his best to describe the little town with their church towering over the quaint little houses and the war-torn fields surrounding it. He recalled the woman who’d saved his life and the challenges of learning French, and while he talked, Jim sat there, wherever he was, and listened, making occasional comments encouraging him to continue.  
  
Of all the things Leonard recalled, he left the letter out—the letter, which was more like a memo, that contained only the most basic information about him. It was a piece of paper he’d looked at and read with a great mixture of emotions ranging from excitement to dread, anger to glee, and self-assuredness to uncertainty.  
  
He often wondered what its intended purpose was and who it was written for. Perhaps it was for anyone who had the misfortune of stumbling upon his corpse; surely, the previous Leonard McCoy couldn’t have known that he would soon lose his memories.  
  
Leonard was snapped out of his reverie once more when Jim, now audibly less sullen than before, said, _“Oh, would you look at the time.”_  
  
There were muffled voices in the background, and Leonard assumed Nyota and Spock were up. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was almost six already. He’d have to get ready for work soon.  
  
 _“Hey, Bones, Nyota wants to know if you’d like to come over for dinner this weekend,”_  Jim suddenly told him. “ _I already said yes for you, but she wanted me to actually ask you_.”  
  
Arching a brow, he asked, “You already said yes for me?”  
  
“ _Yeah, well, it’ll be good for you in more ways than one, you know? Meet new people, meet old people, spend some time with me, swap stories, take a day off work, and there’ll probably be pie,_ ” Jim’s voice became muffled when he suddenly called out,  _“—no, I’m not pressuring him! I’m merely stating the advantages to coming!”_  Then back on the telephone, he asked,  _“So is that a yes?”_  
  
Leonard heaved an exaggerated sigh, making sure it was audible over the phone. “Fine, I’ll go. Why do I get the feeling that things like this used to happen a lot?”  
  
Jim chuckled.  _“Things like what? Me being right?—he said yes, Nyota! I told you he would!”_  
  
He shook his head and scoffed. “No, things like you dragging me into things, you infant. Just tell me the time and location, and I’ll try my best to be there.”  
  
 _“Oh, did they finally get around to hiring the new doctors?”_  
  
“Yes, praise the lord. New doctors—ones that won’t be too busy chasing after interns, and new nurses. I might actually have time to try and reintegrate back into society—and Chapel too, god knows when that woman last took a day off,” he muttered, thinking of his most trusted nurse. “Anyway, time and location? I know the address is written in your file, but I’m not about to dig out a patient’s file and copy an address from it.”  
  
 _“Right. Do you have a pen handy?”_  Jim asked.  
  
Jotting down the address and noting the time and date, he nodded to himself. “Alright. Got it. And now, I should probably get ready for work. Maybe I’ll see you in a few days.”  
  
He could almost see Jim’s soft smile on the other line.  _“Yeah, hopefully we’ll see you then, Bones. Have fun at work.”_  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes and drawled sarcastically, “I’ll try.”  
  
 _“Oh, and Bones?”_  
  
Holding the receiving back up to his ear, Leonard asked, “Yeah?”  
  
 _“Thanks…you know, for talking,”_ Jim said, his voice earnest.  
  
His eyes softened and his lips instinctively curled into a small but affectionate smile. “Anytime, Jim. Bye.”  
  
After hanging up, instead of immediately getting ready for work like he said, Leonard remained seated there for a minute thinking about how many dollars his next phone bill would probably add up to. But pushing the thought out of his head, he got up and opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  
  
Opening it up, he sat down on his bed and read those four sentences to himself over and over again. It was the only clue he had to his identity when he woke up that day three years ago, and the last sentence was the reason he returned to the United States. His eyes scanned the worn out piece of paper one last time before tucking it back into his drawer in favour of getting dressed for work.  
  
 _My name is Leonard H. McCoy._  
  
 _I was born in Georgia, the United States._  
  
 _I fix people._  
  
 _And I am lucky enough to love and be loved by three amazing people._


End file.
